


Who's calling?

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Creepy, Gen, Halloween, In a way, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Protective Peter Parker, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: Just as he’s fantasizing about what kind of dessert he’ll make after eating some pizza, something smothered in chocolate sauce and sprinkles, Karen patches through another call from MJ which he accepts with a laugh already bubbling in his chest.''I’m almost done - ''''Did you just call here?''The abrupt tone jars him. ''What? No? Why do you - ''''You swear?''''Yeah, yeah, I promise, what’s going on?''orA wholesome Halloween night takes a rather sinister turn.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 86
Kudos: 166





	Who's calling?

**Author's Note:**

> You ever see the movie When a Stranger Calls? Yeah...
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s just after seven thirty when Karen informs Peter that he has an incoming call. 

"One sec," he says while he throws up a peace sign, cheering along with the two highschoolers wedged in against his sides as they cram their faces together for a selfie.

"Thanks, Spidey!" the girl dressed as a bloody doctor exclaims, giving him a wide grin and holding her phone up so he can see the final result. 

"No problem," Peter chuckles bashfully as he accepts a hug from the other girl, awkwardly hooking an arm around the delicate structure of her bumblebee wings. "Have a good night!"

He hops up onto a signpost, fires off a web and waits until he’s mid swing before telling Karen to put the call through. 

"Hey," he greets warmly, "how’s it going?"

_ "Oh, you know, the sugar’s flowing, hyperactivity is imminent, nothing new,"  _ MJ says dryly, a hint of a laugh in her voice.  _ "Mrs Stark did good with the snacks." _

"Yeah, she always does. What do you think of the place?"

_ "Modest." _

Peter snorts as an image of MJ sitting on the sprawling grey couch in the newly purchased penthouse apartment comes to mind. “It kinda is, you know. Especially without FRIDAY."

_ "Lacking a live-in artificial intelligence system does not automatically signify modest living, dork." _

"I know _ ,"  _ Peter laughs. "Just saying."

_ "Isn’t she being reinstalled next week?" _

"Yeah, when Doctor Banner is back in town."

_ "Guess I’ll have to order pizza the good old fashioned peasant way tonight." _

There’s a sudden scuffling sound, a muffled grunt from MJ and then Morgan’s voice loudly saying  _ "Hi, Peter,”  _ her words muffled like her lips are pressed right up against the mouthpiece of the phone.  _ "Are you coming over now?" _

Peter hooks a right and lands on the edge of a fire escape. "Not just yet, Mo. Got a few hours of patrol left yet."

_ "Aww, but you’re missing the movie!" _

"What are you guys watching?" Peter asks, then adding with playful warning, "It better not be Hocus Pocus!" 

_ "No Hocus Pocus,"  _ MJ promises.  _ "But things are getting pretty creepy down in the Hundred Acre Wood." _

_ "MJ wouldn’t let me watch the one with the ghost in the tv,"  _ Morgan chimes in grumpily. 

_ "Yep,"  _ MJ sighs,  _ "I’m a tyrant." _

A giant, gooey smile breaks out across Peter’s face, one that he imagines that MJ can somehow hear if her fond snort is anything to go by. 

_ "Hurry up and get here, loser." _

A burst of children cheering his name from the street below cuts Peter’s reassurances short, and he jabbers a quick goodbye as he swings down, landing amongst a gaggle of kids and their rather flustered looking parents. 

"Happy Halloween!" he says, throwing his arms wide and bracing himself against the immediate swarm of elated screeching and enthusiastic hugging. There’s at least three children wearing Iron Man costumes, and Peter does his best to repress the sharp sting of sorrow as he thinks of Tony. 

After many pictures are taken, Peter manages to pull himself away and takes a breather on top of an office block, pulling off his mask to inhale the faint scent of cotton candy and pretzels coming from the carts scattered along the sidewalk. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known the anniversary would be hard. There’s still memorials all over the city: huge murals covering sides of buildings in bold washes of red and gold, billboards with Tony and his signature sunglasses blown up to obscene sizes and clips of people professing their everlasting gratitude playing repeatedly on any screen that Peter happens to pass. 

He’d been quietly dreading the approach of October and he knew that he wasn’t the only one. They were all still carrying the weight of the final battle and Tony’s death, along with the missing five years and the salt in the wound that had been the trip to Europe. There had barely been any time to recover from that before the leaves started to change colour and September was drawing to an end, signalling the impending arrival of the date that had broken them all in one way or another. 

And the weird thing is that it’s not like Peter feels unhappy, not completely. Despite the whirlwind that he’s been sucked to since he came back from being dusted, there’s been so much light within the after-gloom; big breaks of dawn amidst the darkness that he holds onto with all his might.

But it still hurts; hurts like those tiny nicks of skin on dry fingers when they snag against the sleeve of a sweatshirt, fierce and sudden and not so easily soothed. 

Peter sighs loudly, flopping back onto the roof, arms spread wide. 

He knows Tony wouldn’t want him to feel like this. The actual anniversary itself had passed a few weeks ago, marked privately by another quiet gathering at the lake house, now relegated to a weekend getaway home, while the rest of the world turned the skies bright with fireworks and reacquainted themselves with the joys of still being alive. 

Closing his eyes, Peter lets himself fall into turbulent territory and imagines what Tony would say. 

_ ("C’mon, kid. It’s your favourite holiday, your scary girlfriend is waiting for you and you’re pouting on a rooftop like a gargoyle. Go on, finish your patrol and have fun already.") _

The voice isn’t as loud as it used to be, the once distinct tones blurring slightly at the edges, exactly like Ben’s, but it’s enough to propel Peter to his feet once again, and it’s with a decidedly loud holler that he yanks his mask back on, dives off the edge of the rooftop and whirls himself into the midst of another group of excited children. 

Over the next hour, in between thwarting the odd mugging and stepping in to break up a few fights, Peter mingles with the clusters of trick or treaters throughout the city, taking selfies with teenagers on their way to parties and posing dramatically with younger children who are adorably ruthless in their affection and admiration of him. He even joins in with the New York Halloween Parade for a little while, hopping from float to float and performing elaborate stunts amongst the costumed dancers, much to the delight of the crowds. 

Johnny Storm, front and centre of a gang of fire eaters, waves excitedly at him before exploding on the spot, scorching the air with heat and leaving trails of smoke in his wake as he zooms around. Peter rolls his eyes when Johnny lands beside him in a blaze of light, grin wide and bright even through the flames. 

"Show off."

"Don’t hate, Spidey," Johnny teases. "I can’t help being hot stuff."

An alert from Karen about another mugging means there’s no time for their customary exchange of terrible insults. Peter leaves a pouting Johnny behind, throwing a promise to hang out soon over his shoulder as he races off.

He nabs a guy dressed as Chucky halfway down an alley and returns a heavy handbag to a very grateful woman wearing a pirate costume, accidentally breaks up a fight between a bunch of guys who look like something out of that movie that May likes with the leather jackets and weird dancing, then ends up sprawled on the ground a short while later as a group of tiny witches and wizards do battle over his fallen form. 

It’s fun, a desperately needed breath of fresh air and before Peter knows it, there’s only half an hour to go until he can call it a night with a free conscience and head over to Pepper’s place to join MJ and Morgan. 

Just as he’s fantasizing about what kind of dessert he’ll make after eating some pizza, something smothered in chocolate sauce and sprinkles, Karen patches through another call from MJ which he accepts with a laugh already bubbling in his chest. 

"I’m almost done - "

_ "Did you just call here?" _

The abrupt tone jars him. "What? No? Why do you - "

_ "You swear?" _

"Yeah, yeah, I promise, what’s going on?"

_ "Hang on. Morgan?"  _ MJ’s voice drifts away for a moment.  _"Why don’t you go put your pyjamas on, okay?"_

_ "I don't wannaaa." _

_"If you put them on now, you'll have more time to see Peter when he gets here before you go to bed."_

There’s a pause, Morgan’s face as she considers MJ’s words clear in Peter’s mind, then a chirpy agreement. Muffled footsteps hurry away and MJ says quietly,  _ "Someone called here about fifteen minutes ago. Weird ‘cause who even calls a landline anymore. They didn’t say anything, just did a bunch of gross, heavy breathing. I thought it was someone playing a dumb Halloween prank, maybe Flash or somebody just messing around." _

"How would Flash know where you are? He’d call you, not Pepper’s apartment." Peter says as he drops onto a rooftop so he can pace out the sudden flood of nerves. "Besides, he’s scared of you so that doesn’t make sense."

_ "I know. I think Betty said something about him throwing a party anyway so I think it’s safe to assume it’s not him, especially as it didn’t sound anything like him the second time." _

Something cold prickles across Peter’s arms. "The second time?"

_ "Yeah." _ The unease in MJ’s voice is unmistakable.  _ "I couldn’t recognise who it was but they sounded familiar. It’s like their voice was being deliberately distorted or something." _

"But it’s a man?"

_ "Sounds like it." _

"What did he say?"

MJ doesn’t answer immediately, almost like she’s considering if she would repeat the words or not.  _ "How’s the kid?"  _

The prickling sensation turns sharp, icy fingers pressing into his skin. "Oh, uh, that’s - that’s creepy."

_ "Little bit, yeah.  _ _ But, you know, it’s just a stupid prank call. I bet he’s dialing random numbers or something." _

"Yeah," Peter agrees quietly, knowing full well she doesn’t believe that any more than he does. Not to mention the fact that any number belonging to Pepper would not be one so easily found or used, no matter how randomly a person might dial. "Listen, I’m gonna be heading over soon, okay?" 

_ "Okay,"  _ MJ says, obviously relieved.  _ "Good." _

"You know what, I’ll just come over now - "

_ "No, don’t. I’m fine, okay? It’s important you’re out there tonight, you know that." _

Peter sighs, peering over the edge of the roof to gaze down at the people below. A group of kids, all dressed as Spider-Man, race along together, cheering and pretending to shoot webs at each other. "Yeah, I know."

_ "I’m fine, _ " MJ insists. 

"Promise me you’ll call me if it happens again?"

_ Yes, dork, I promise. See you soon." _

"Hey, Karen?" Peter says as soon as the call ends. "Are you able to connect to the line at Pepper’s place? Trace any calls coming through?"

_ "Sure thing, Peter, but any call would have to last for at least sixty seconds for me to do so." _

"Do that, please, and let me know if you manage to trace it." He sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "Not that I want MJ to talk to a weirdo for more than, like, ten seconds but if it gets the guy to stop…"

_ "I understand, Peter. Monitoring all activity now." _

"Thanks, Karen."

Peter sighs, the ache in his chest flaring up again as he thinks of Tony, craving the comfort that he’d always felt just being in the man’s presence. Even up on Titan when everything had started to fade away, Peter had clung to him, seeking that same comfort until the very end. 

"What do you think, Mister Stark?" he murmurs, casting his eyes over the rooftops to look at one of the memorials in the distance, the red and gold paint vivid and bright even from this far. "You’d probably trace the number and prank the guy right back."

He doesn’t expect any kind of response, and would undoubtedly be freaked as hell if he were to suddenly hear Tony’s voice confirm his thoughts, but the sadness still grabs him a little too tightly and he cartwheels off the roof and back into the night to try and free himself from its grasp. 

The next twenty minutes or so are full of more excited screams from kids, another brief and rather terrifying encounter with Johnny in which Peter finds himself clinging onto the guy’s back as he races round and round the Statue of Liberty like a fiery tornado, and a few more thwarted muggings. 

He’s just about to call it a night, feeling increasingly desperate to see MJ and more than ready to crash on the couch and gorge himself on junk food, when Karen informs him that MJ is calling him. 

The dread hits before he even answers. "MJ?"

He can tell she’s doing her best to not let herself be frightened from the tightness in her voice as she says,  _ "He called again." _

"What did he say?"

_ "He told me to say hi to the kid for him." _

A chill ripples across Peter’s shoulders, the icy fingers from earlier becoming a bone-hard grip.  MJ suddenly hisses in surprise as the phone rings; sharp, harsh trills that blare as loudly as sirens. 

For what feels like a horribly long time, Peter doesn’t breathe. MJ does, little rattling rasps into his ear. In the background, Morgan yells that the phone is ringing. 

" _ Should...should I answer it?"  _ MJ asks hesitantly. 

"Only if you want to," Peter murmurs. "I’ll be there soon. I can answer - "

_ "Hang on." _

He waits, the back of his neck tingling unpleasantly as he listens to MJ walking and then hears the soft  _ click  _ as she lifts the phone out of where he knows it sits in a charging dock. The ringing instantly stops and is replaced by her voice softly saying,  _ "Hello?" _

Silence follows, the noise of the city somehow also dying away as he waits for her to say something else. 

Seconds pass, Peter doesn’t know how many but it still feels like a million years have gone by when he finally hears MJ put the phone down and her breathing become louder in his ear once again. 

"MJ?"

" _ He...I think he can see me. I think he knows that I’m calling you." _

Peter fights to keep his voice calm. "Why do you think that?"

_ "He said - he said did you tell the kid I said hi." _

"Is...is Morgan near you?" Peter asks, already knowing the answer. "Right now, is she standing near you?"

_ "No." _

His senses immediately scream, everything turning static, violins screeching in his ears, every drop of blood turning hot and every bone morphing into jelly. His lungs constrict violently in his chest, a thick lump forming at the base of his throat as he tries to speak. 

This is more than a prank. 

This person  _ knows  _ who Peter is; knows his connection to the Starks; knows enough to use the name that Tony called him more than anything else - 

Knows that MJ and Morgan are home alone. 

He’s moving before he even realises, body surging into autodrive. "Shut the curtains, get Morgan and lock yourself in the main bathroom."

_ "Lock ourselves in the - but the security system - " _

"Please!" Peter begs, his aim faltering as he tries to fire his web-shooters faster. "This isn’t a prank, MJ. I don’t know what it is but - just please do it. I’m on my way, okay? I’m coming."

" _ Okay, okay,"  _ MJ agrees hurriedly.  _ "Morgan? Morgan, come on, we’re gonna - "  _ she pauses and breathes twice; two trembling gasps.  _ "We’re gonna play hairdressers in the bathroom. I’ll show you how to colour your hair with that chalk you have." _

"I’ll be there soon," Peter promises as Morgan gives a faint cheer. "Okay, I’ll be - "

_ "Peter,"  _ Karen interrupts, far too urgently.  _ "I traced the call." _

"Where - "

_ "It’s coming from inside the building. The caller is inside the building." _

The world pivots. His scalp shrivels under his hair, his skin stings and his vision tunnels with the hammering of his heart. 

Inside. 

Inside. 

It’s coming from inside.

"Lock the door, MJ," he manages to say. "Lock the door."

There’s no argument, just quick footsteps, the quiet  _ snick  _ of the lock twisting into place, then MJ far too cheerfully asking Morgan what colours she wants to use. 

"Stay on the phone. I’m five minutes away, just five minutes."

Five minutes. It might as well be five hours because he’s not moving fast enough and  _ someone  _ is inside the building, mere walking distance away from where MJ and Morgan are. 

_ "Contacting authorities now,"  _ Karen says.  _ "I’ll alert Ms Stark and Colonel Rhodes too." _

"Try Johnny," Peter says quickly. "He’s close by."

He keeps swinging, arms burning with the speed in which he twirls and bends them, ribs aching as his heart continues to try and bash its way free from his chest. He can still hear MJ and Morgan, the contrast of Morgan’s happy obliviousness amplifying the strained tension in MJ’s voice as they compare colour patterns. 

In the background, the phone rings again. 

Peter loops two more skyscrapers and finally, the building comes into view, the lights of the penthouse at the very top calling out to him like a beacon. 

Almost there. 

_ "Police are on their way. No response from anybody else including Johnny Storm but I’ll keep trying." _

The police won’t make it in time, not on Halloween of all nights and even if they did, Peter knows they won’t be of any use. This isn’t a stalker or some creep that gets his kicks out of scaring people. 

It’s something -  _ someone  _ \- else. 

Rusty flecks of dust fly into the air as he hits the brickwork of the building harder than he meant to. He shuffles along and lifts a hand to rap on the bathroom window, but pauses as his spine tingles. 

Breathing slowly, Peter turns to look over his shoulder, eyes darting across the nearby rooftops, skimming the windows of the buildings opposite but finding nothing. 

The sensation races up his back again and skitters down his arms, all the hairs there standing completely on end. 

It feels...familiar; as though the eyes that he can feel watching him are ones that know him well. 

And yet there’s no comfort in the feeling, just mounting dread that makes Peter’s pulse try to leap out of his ears. 

Still looking over his shoulder, he raps softly on the window. "I’m outside."

The call disconnects and the blind snaps up to reveal MJ’s face on the other side. There’s streaks of pink and yellow powder on her cheeks, touches of red in her hair and a rigidness to her eyes, like she daren’t look out the corners of them. 

Peter pulls her close as soon as his feet touch the floor, then quickly unhooks one arm to wrap it around Morgan’s shoulders as she rushes over to hug his legs. 

"You okay?" He buries his face into MJ’s hair, closing his eyes as she nods hurriedly, squeezing him tight round the waist. "Good, good, okay, come on."

"Are we gonna watch a movie? Can I stay up?" Morgan asks excitedly, only to groan loudly as the phone starts ringing once more. "Can you make them go away? Tell them we don’t want to buy any ‘surance."

On any other night, Peter would have laughed at how much she sounds like Happy, the ire in her voice no doubt inspired by listening to the man complain about cold callers and salesmen in the past. 

But not tonight. 

Not with MJ rigid as stone against him and the fear that’s been steadily seeping in, dark and malevolent, sticking to every bit of him. 

"Karen," he murmurs, "are they still in the building?"

There’s no reply. 

"Karen?" 

Nothing. 

MJ’s fingers press into his ribs. "We need to go."

Peter yanks off his mask, desperately wondering if giving it a shake will somehow bring Karen back online, but he knows there’s no point. 

The phone stops ringing. 

"Peterrrr," Morgan singsongs. "Please can we watch a movie? I won’t tell Mommy you let me stay up late, promise."

Peter exhales slowly and tucks the mask into the back pocket of MJ’s jeans, meeting her gaze as he does so. 

"Stay close," he whispers, then gives Morgan the biggest smile he can. "I gotta check there’s no ghosties or ghoulies out there first, Mo."

Morgan giggles, the early shadows of tiredness under her eyes all but disappearing in her excitement, her face morphing into something that is completely Tony. 

Peter looks away sharply and heads for the door. He flicks the lock, the  _ snick  _ as loud as a gunshot, and grips the handle hard enough to crease the metal. With infinite slowness, he eases the door open and pokes his head out to peer down the short hallway. 

A shadow darts across the wall at the other end, knocking the air out of his lungs, and is immediately followed by another; bursts of light and dark whirling together like oil on water. Peter tenses, ready to slam the door shut, only to sag against it as a burst of laughter and applause echoes down. 

Just the television, left on from when MJ had hastily shuffled Morgan into the bathroom earlier. 

Heart up in his throat, wrists aching from the speed of his pulse, Peter creeps along, keeping his back to the wall. He reaches the end, casts a quick glance to where MJ and Morgan are peering round the bathroom door at him, Morgan grinning and MJ’s jaw clenched tight, and turns the corner. 

The spacious main room is warmly lit, giving the jarring illusion that this is all some kind of misunderstanding; nothing more than their imaginations getting the best of them. The lamps are turned down low, the fridge hums soothingly in the kitchen and the glow of many ornamental pumpkin candles paint the walls a pretty orange, highlighting the piles of candy on the large, oak table in front of the long couch. 

On the far side of the room is the front door. A panel to the left of it displays a green light, indicating that the security system is active. The little blinking bulb does nothing to assuage Peter’s fears as he waves a hand behind him, keeping it held out until MJ’s fingers tangle tightly with his. 

They both stare at the phone where it sits in its cradle on a small side table, silent for the moment. 

"You can share my popcorn with me," Morgan says, stepping past them. "I’ve got the caramel kind!"

Peter reaches out and grabs her shoulder, harder than he means to, and she turns to face him, mouth already open in an unhappy outburst. Any kind of explanation dies on his tongue as he looks at her, once again wishing so much that Tony were here. 

Morgan’s mouth closes and she regards him for a moment. He sees the understanding dawn in her eyes right before she whispers, "It’s ‘cause of the phone, isn’t it."

Right on cue, the phone comes alive again with piercing shrillness. The three of them jump and press close to each other, backing away a few steps as though it’s a live bomb. 

"Should we run?" MJ asks. "If - if we’re fast, maybe we can get past him."

The television switches off behind them, turning the room a shade darker. Morgan buries her face into the side of Peter’s leg and gives a frightened little moan. "Peter, I’m  _ scared." _

Peter swallows against the rush of saliva in his mouth. Sweat prickles in his hair as he glances between the phone and the door, his fingers tightening in MJ’s grasp. 

He wants to run, he really does; wants to fling open the door and race down the stairs as fast as he can. 

Instead, he moves towards the phone. 

"Peter," MJ hisses as their arms start to stretch apart, "what are you doing?"

Morgan digs her fingers into his thigh with another soft whine. "I want Mommy!"

Peter’s breath punches out of his lungs as his hand wraps around the phone. Slowly, he eases it free, cutting it off mid-ring, and lifts it to his ear. 

There’s a long, awful silence that stretches on, coiling around Peter like the vines of a tree, squeezing tighter and tighter until - 

_ "Hi, kid. You miss me?" _

Peter’s heart stops. 

His arm falls numbly to his side and the phone slips from his fingers. It hits the ground and bounces, knocking into the side of his foot. MJ pulls hard on his arm and he turns to look at her, meeting her terrified stare as he tries to speak; to tell her what he just heard. 

From outside the door, there’s a soft thud. Then another. 

Footsteps. 

MJ darts away to grab an oversized candlestick holder off a shelf and raises it up by her head with a trembling hand. Peter wants to say something;  _ do _ something that gets rid of the look on her face and stops Morgan from shaking like a leaf.

But that voice…

The footsteps stop outside the door. Peter pushes himself forward, one arm extended to keep MJ and Morgan behind him.

Lightning shoots up his spine as the door handle starts to turn. With a soft, barely there creak, it swings open.

A figure dressed in a navy suit steps into the room. A pair of dark sunglasses sit on his face above an immaculate goatee. 

The air turns cold. 

Peter blinks, breathing fast, his whole body on fire. 

"M-Mister Stark?"

As soon as he says it, Peter knows that this is real. He’d known from the second he heard the voice on the other end of the phone, or even from the moment the word ‘kid’ had left MJ’s mouth earlier that night. 

But the energy is all wrong, the aura of the moment far too sinister and malevolent. Tony had always exuded warmth and security, a quiet sort of kindness that somehow made everything feel okay. 

Everything isn’t okay now.

Because the man standing in front of them is definitely  _ not _ Tony. 

By Peter’s side, Morgan continues to shake. "Daddy?" she whimpers tearfully, barely a trace of hope in her voice despite who is standing right in front of her. 

The man ignores her. A sharp grin, predatory and all too triumphant, spreads across his face as he removes his sunglasses. Where warm, kind brown eyes should be, there’s nothing but red. He fixes Peter with a hungry look and throws his arms wide.

"Come on, kid. How about a hug for your old man?"

**Author's Note:**

> Gaaaawd did that suck? I hope not but ahhhhh I don't know it's very hard to pull off creepy in fics haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, kind comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


End file.
